


Fried

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [8]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Character, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Slice of Life, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: Five times Silver wishes he had Flint to himself on Valentine’s Day, and one time he finally gets his wish.





	1. Chapter 1

John Silver is a heart-shaped-latte machine. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be swivelling his wrist in his sleep for a week. He’ll have to ask Madi whether Queens has workers compensation for when he develops a repetitive strain injury from adding a delicate point to every fat swirly heart on every beverage he makes today. He prays for someone to order their coffee black. He curses the romantic futures of every couple who thought a coffee date would be a sweeter way to celebrate Valentines Day on a Thursday. He’s beginning to lose his grip on any element of his identity that isn’t related to foaming milk.

He may be a little overworked.

‘Need a break?’ Madi asks him. Silver realises his only response is a ‘Hnnh’ sound, which Madi accurately interprets as a desperate ‘yes.’

‘Go sit,’ she orders him. ‘Take the window bench in the corner. I’ll make you a smoothie.’

‘Hnnh,’ Silver nods, his shoulders sagging. He clasps Madi’s shoulder gratefully—and also for balance.

The bench is poky and unsuited for couples, so it’s unofficially the spot for staff on their breaks. Madi slings a smoothie past him. It’s as pink as a hospital glove and it smells like strawberries. Madi makes her smoothies so chunky they hardly come up through the straw. Silver wonders if this is a strategy to stop him coming back to the counter before his fifteen minutes is up.

His face is faintly reflected in the glass. The bags under his eyes have bags under them. His hair is coming out of its bun, looping into corkscrews from the steam blowback at the coffee machine. His nose might still be red from the winter sniffle he had in January. He swallows a lump of strawberry and pours all of his feeble willpower into resisting the urge to print the glass with his greasy forehead. That would ruin the view of outside. Outside is bleak, the kind of overcast that plans to stay monochromatic and rainless for days on end. The jaunty pops of red and pink in shops capitalising on Valentine’s Day look slightly surreal.

He fumbles for his phone in his back pocket. It clatters onto the floor. ‘Fine,’ he mumbles, slumping as low as he can while still fitting the smoothie straw into his mouth. Finally he twists himself in half retrieving it, considers just lying on the floor along with the phone, but pulls himself back together for the sake of not embarrassing Madi in her place of work.

 _i’m so tired i want to die,_ he texts Flint.

 _Want to cancel tonight? It’s ok if you need to rest,_ Flint replies.

 _no,_ Silver writes. _miranda‘s flying in just for this._

 _Not JUST_ _for this,_ Flint says. _We can go later on the weekend._

 _it’s ok. i need something to look forward to,_ Silver assures him.

Flint had at some point mentioned to Miranda that his first dinner with Silver had been fish and chips. Miranda had booked her trip on the spot. The plan was that after Flint’s work and Silver’s ASL class, they’d bypass the booked-out restaurants and go back to their first date spot with Miranda in tow. But 7pm might as well be a a thousand years from now. Silver sucks hard on the smoothie until his straw unclogs with a rush of yoghurt. 7pm is a thousand heart-shaped lattes from now.

 _Chips will see you through,_ Flint promises.

 _YOU will see me through,_ Silver smiles. _but chips also_

Madi might be sparing with the blender, but she knows how to make a smoothie. After Silver feels more awake than he has all day, energised by his fourteen-minute battle with the straw. When Eme slips him table five’s order for two hot chocolates with heart-shaped sprinkles on the cream, he tops them off with relish. Metaphorical relish.

He glances over at Madi, who’s standing completely still instead of putting the order on table five’s bill.

‘Oh my god,’ Silver says. ‘Madi. Please.’

She jumps, processing the order at double speed. ‘Shut up.’

‘I have shut up for six _weeks,_ Madi,’ Silver groans. ‘Six weeks. Do you know what you look like?’

He taps the sprinkles into his hand and holds two sugar hearts up in front of each of his eyes.

‘You look like this,’ he tells her.

Madi elbows him. He eats the sprinkles.

‘It’s not appropriate,’ Madi argues. ‘I’m her superior.’

‘Do you _want_ to go out with her?’ Silver asks.

‘Yes,’ Madi murmurs, looking away. ‘I just can’t ask.’

‘She wants you to ask!’ Silver insists.

‘Did she say that to you?’ Madi peers at him.

‘I want to show you what Eme looks like when she looks at you,’ Silver grabs the sprinkle container again.

‘Don’t!’ Madi hisses as Eme comes back.

‘One double espresso for table seven,’ Eme calls as she passes by.

‘Double espresso? Eme, I _love_ you,’ Silver tells her. ‘Are you single?’

‘Yes, but you’re not,’ she smirks at him as she bustles off.

‘Are you seriously going to play cupid?’ Madi’s voice is painfully flustered.

‘I’m suddenly feeling the spirit of the season,’ Silver grins at her.

When Eme comes back for the espressos, Silver asks her:

‘Could I please borrow your order pad?’

She pulls it out of her apron and tosses it to him. Obscured behind the coffee machine, Silver quickly flips a few pages in and writes with his marker _DO U LIKE MADI? TICK YES OR NO_

Then he quickly tears off the top page as an alibi, handing the pad back to Eme.

‘You have about ten orders before she sees that,’ he tells Madi, who has watched everything from beside him. ‘So it’s time to think fast.’

‘You’re so fired,’ Madi rolls her eyes.

‘If she ticks no, I will resign,’ Silver ups the ante.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she says. ‘We had a hard enough time finding you.’

As each table settles in for their romantic coffee dates, the orders swing into a lull. But Madi’s eyes keep sliding to the corner of the notepad where it sticks out of Eme’s apron.

‘Why don’t you take a break?’ Silver suggests. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘And let you out from under my eye?’ Madi glares at him.

‘I think it’s about time Eme had a break too,’ Silver says. ‘I can wait a few tables on this leg if I need to.’

‘Are you the manager now?’ Madi raises her eyebrow.

‘No,’ Silver takes out the blank page from his pocket and writes _ASK EME OUT._ ‘But do we have a suggestion box?’

‘You are _insufferable,’_ Madi growls, but she takes off her apron.

 _‘Six weeks,_ Madi,’ Silver reminds her. ‘The unresolved tension is going to throw my back out.’

‘I’m not the one who throws your back out,’ Madi tosses the apron at him, and approaches Eme where she’s washing her hands at the station. Silver grins as Eme turns and leans close to Madi. He’s not imagining the little flourish Eme does taking off her apron and hanging it on a hook before the two of them disappear out the back.

Then a pair of couples come in, evidently on a double date, and order four heart lattes from Silver with whole milk, nonfat, and soy, plus one matcha latte with soy. He makes each one and serves them up, assuring them he hasn’t mixed up the matcha with the nonfat. They all have hearts.

Once he gets back behind his machine, he scowls and makes a latte for himself. He pours the best dick shape he can into the surface, drinking it before anyone can see.


	2. Chapter 2

By the end of Silver’s shift, he thinks he might kill the next happy couple he sees. So it’s a good thing, really, that Flint is still busy at work. He walks home, his leg aching, and doesn’t even consider the stairs in the townhouse. The laundry room is on the ground level, and he’s learned it’s easier to keep his crutch, towel, and swimming trunks there instead of trekking up when he’s tired. Ink comes running down the stairs to greet him, and he pets her while adding an extra sock under his prosthetic. He texts Flint:

_going to pool back in 2 hours_

Flint texts back a thumbs-up. Two hours is a lot, but he tells himself as he gets the bus that he’s just leaving some time as a buffer.

In fifteen minutes he’s in, changed, and at the edge of the pool. He lays his crutch by the steps, letting his balance adjust without it. He knows damn well he should just sit and ease into the water but, like every time, he swings forward and dives in. One day he’s going to slip and it’s going to fucking hurt, but every day until then, he’ll take that feeling of water breaking around his fingertips as he swoops down. He arcs carefully when he touches the bottom, grazing his hands along the tiles until he’s low enough for his belly to scrape along them. Opening his eyes stings like a motherfucker. Everything is blue and the surface is miles away, nothing more than a jumble of shimmering colours.

He checks the ropes that mark the edge of his lane and closes his eyes. Darkness and the sound of the water. He should have given himself longer than two hours. But he’ll need to breathe eventually.

He’s crossed half the length of the pool before he surfaces, sliding smoothly into a freestyle. When he gets like this, cutting through the water with ease, everything else melts away. It’s just the blackness of his eyes squeezed shut, the water sluicing around him, and the twist and pull of the stroke. He should turn his head for air twice as often as he actually does. But the ringing in his ears and the burst of relief are their own parts of the ritual. The desperation to stay under for just one more stroke, to push harder than he should, to keep himself suspended and below it all for just a little longer, is why he came here in the first place.  
His fingertips hit the back wall of the lane and he gasps a full breath before tumbling. He plunges lower until he finds the bottom edge of the wall, coiling himself tightly and kicking off to launch back in the direction he came.

The same as his first lap, he doesn’t breach right away, savouring the breathless dark.

He doesn’t swim as fast as he can: a few years after the accident he’d been able to outmatch any given swimmer in the fast lane. Instead he keeps his pace steady, something he can sustain for over an hour. He focuses on carving a straight line through the water without needing to check the lane markers. This world is one he’s learned to navigate easily, without sight or sound, without aid or anyone else. Here, he doesn’t overthink anything, except the water. After a while his muscles develop that good long ache that will turn him into jelly for a few hours and let him sleep like the dead for a few days, until it’s time to swim again. He might not understand Flint’s desire to get up at dawn and go outside for a high impact workout, but the running part, that makes sense.

His heart thuds in his chest. It’s because he’s starting to exhaust himself, not because he’s thinking of Flint, but still. He lets himself drift to the end of the lane, rolling onto his back until he bumps gently against the wall.

Climbing out feels like an ordeal. He wrangles himself upright with the help of the rail, collects his crutch and hurries to the showers. By the time he’s washed his hair, he’s over the recurrent misery of being back on dry land. But then, most moods take less time than washing his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Silver is sprawled on the couch, his hair fanned out across a towel covering one cushion. He jiggles a toy bird on a stick while Ink scrambles around the floor hunting it. Netflix has got the gall to ask him if he’s still watching Brooklyn 99. Flint still hasn’t come home, and Silver picks his phone up from his chest.

_tell me you haven’t been hit by a bus_

Two minutes go by. Ink climbs up onto his chest and starts licking his fingers. The cold open of the show transitions into the titles and he starts to feel a tickle of panic that Flint _has_ been hit by a bus.

 _Sorry_ , comes a text. _Held up at work._

Silver learned early in their relationship that archiving emergencies do exist and archivists don’t appreciate it when you make fun of them.

_anything interesting?_

An ellipsis appears on his screen, then disappears and reappears. Flint never blows Silver off when he’s interested in Flint’s work—he’d say enough people think archiving is boring without archivists encouraging them. Nor does he treat it as it too complicated for Silver to understand. Sure, plenty of it _is_ too complicated for Silver, but Flint’s good at giving him the gist of it and doesn’t treat him like an idiot just because he makes heart-shaped coffee for a living.

 _All those ship logs we acquired are being digitised,_ Flint tells him.

_aren’t there hundreds of them?_

_Yeah,_ Flint says.

_are YOU digitising all of them?_

_Some,_ Flint confesses. There are interns for that, Silver’s sure, but he’s also sure that if the logs are from the 1700s then Flint hasn’t let an intern within ten feet of them.

_am i the kind of boyfriend that has to tell you to not miss our date on valentines day?_

_I’m not the kind of boyfriend misses dates on Valentine’s Day,_ Flint insists. _Aren’t you going to ASL class before dinner?_

 _i thought i’d catch you before i left,_ Silver bends down to kiss Ink’s head and almost drops his phone on his face.

 _I’m sorry,_ Flint sends the message with a heart emoji. _The log I’m working on this afternoon was strange._

_strange how? did everyone die of scurvy?_

_That’s not strange,_ Flint tells him, and Silver smiles. _There was a page torn out._

 _that doesn’t happen often?_ Silver frowns, doubtful. He rolls over and pauses Netflix, waiting for Flint’s reply.

 _It happens all the time,_ Flint answers. _I don’t know what it is. I’ll be another hour getting the rest transcribed. Will you have left by then?_

 _yeah,_ Silver says. _i’ll feed ink before i go. make sure you’re home in time to let miranda in_

 _I’ll only just miss you,_ Flint says. _We’ll pick you up after your class._

 _don’t get stuck writing scurvy diaries all night,_ Silver sends.

 _I won’t,_ Flint promises, followed by a whole string of emojis that suggest they’re going to have a very romantic dinner and something that may or may not imply there will be eggplants for dessert.


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth module of the ASL course isn’t so much about expanding Silver’s lexicon as it is grammar and syntax. Sometimes it feels like a lesson in what little mistakes Flint has indulged or forgiven, even though Silver knows he’s going to be making those for years. Still, he’s only ten years behind Flint. He’s sure he can catch up.

Night has fallen since the class began, so the students say goodbyes awkwardly while getting their gloves on. After two hours of signing without vocalising, everyone’s accustomed to conversing in ASL and the occasional voice is startlingly loud. Silver looks at his phone to find Flint has texted: _Five minutes away!_

He texts back a kissing emoji and leans against a wall to wait. Another class is emptying out, the same mix of signing and voices among the students. Silver smiles, and then sees a familiar face. Eleanor is pulling her coat on.

 _Hi,_ she signs, and Silver signs _Hi_ back.

 _You’re taking class here…_ ‘still?’ she finishes aloud.

 _Still,_ Silver shows her. _I’m still in the fourth level. You’re doing level two?_

 _Yes,_ she says. _I missed it._

Silver remembers when he was hesitant like this, and he suspects that she knows more than she thinks she does. But she doesn’t have a partner to practice with, and it’s not exactly on Duolingo.

 _I liked the first course with you,_ she says. _And I needed… to be busy._

Silver nods. He hasn’t seen Eleanor since he showed up at House of Sticks one January morning to teach Abigail how to pack a portafilter. He’d got the sense that Eleanor was still restless, adrift after the end of her engagement. She hadn’t been living with Woodes, but there’s a difference between him being away and knowing he won’t be back again. Evenings at ASL classes are one way to keep one distracted, Silver guesses.

 _Do you have Deaf friends to talk with?_ Silver asks.

 _Not really,_ she says. _I only know Flint. But I thought I could try to learn, and I might make some friends._

She smiles the kind of smile she’d get at the end of a long shift at the café. Silver pulls her into a one-armed hug, like he used to when she needed it. She leans against him, nodding. Silver doesn’t ask her how she’s been, because she’ll either blow him off or go to pieces, and neither of them want that.

 _Your ASL is really good,_ Silver tells her.

 _No,_ Eleanor insists. _I’m so bad._

 _You’re not,_ Silver says. _You just need to get used to it._

He has an idea. It might not be a _good_ idea, but it’s the spur of the moment and he wants to. He hates having bad blood, he hates seeing Eleanor like this, and he likes being able to fix problems.

 _Are you busy now?_ he asks her.

 _No,_ she says. _Why?_

_Do you want to come with us for dinner? We can work on your ASL._

Eleanor’s eyes go wide. _No, I couldn’t,_ she opens her mouth, then closes it as she remembers to sign. _It’s your dinner… d-a-t-e?_

 _It’s not a serious date,_ Silver tells her. _Another Deaf friend is coming too. It’s just fish and chips._

Silver’s not sure she understands ‘fish and chips,’ but she seems to follow the rest of it.

 _You remember how much we like seafood,_ he jokes, and she looks a bit like she wants to die on the spot.

 _Flint won’t want me there,_ she says.

 _How do you know?_ Silver pats her arm. _I’ll ask, alright?_

He reaches for his phone and Eleanor taps his arm. Flint and Miranda have just rounded the corner. Miranda waves hello, pulling Silver into a hug when she’s close. When they part, Silver sees Eleanor greeting Flint tentatively. Flint asks how she is, and she explains that she’s taking the second module of ASL.

 _I wanted to say I’m sorry,_ she signs to Flint. _About…_

She looks helplessly at Silver. ‘How do I say Thanksgiving? Should I let you interpret?’

Silver shows her, and follows: _I’ll help you with the words, but you should try signing it all._

She swallows, nodding. She addresses Flint: _That night, I didn’t know what Woodes had said to you. I didn’t know he_ ** _could_** _say something like that._

Flint takes a deep breath. _I see,_ he tells her.

 _When he told me, I couldn’t…_ she shakes her head, then mimes taking a ring off her finger. _I’m sorry._

 _Thank you,_ Flint signs clearly to her, meeting her eyes.

 _It was wrong of me to ask you to a loud restaurant,_ she fumbles through the sentence, but she manages. _I said I would sign with you and I didn’t._

 _You’ve improved a lot,_ Flint tells her. She smiles, blinking rapidly like she’s going to cry.

 _I thought we could try again,_ Silver interjects. _Eleanor needs some practice signing._

 _Tonight?_ Flint’s eyebrow raises a fraction in Silver’s direction.

 _You really don’t have to…_ Eleanor starts insisting.

 _While you make up your minds,_ Miranda interrupts. _Would someone introduce me?_

Flint laughs at himself. _I’m very sorry. Miranda, this is Eleanor. Eleanor, Miranda._

Flint spells Miranda’s name slowly for Eleanor, following with her name sign. Eleanor double-takes at the latter.

 _Her name sign,_ Silver explains. _B-e-e. A busy bee._

 _I also keep a hive of them,_ Miranda smiles, shaking Eleanor’s hand. _You’re coming to dinner?_

Silver shoots a questioning look at Flint while they’re talking, since he hasn’t actually checked. Flint gives him a small nod of approval.

 _Come to dinner,_ Silver repeats to Eleanor. This time her smile is shifting from nervous to hopeful. _Thank you,_ she tells them all.

 _Come on,_ Miranda says. _It’s been_ ** _so long_** _since I had fish and chips. Eleanor, tell me what you do._

She turns with Eleanor in the direction of the waterfront. Flint takes the moment of distraction to pull Silver into the shadows and plant a heavy kiss on him.

 _I’m sorry I was late,_ Flint says, still so close to Silver there’s barely space to sign.

 _I’m sorry I brought an unexpected guest,_ Silver answers, and Flint shrugs.

 _She’s your friend,_ he says. _I’m glad she’s making amends._

Silver hugs Flint.

 _And she could keep Miranda busy,_ Flint signs quickly, reaching around to pat Silver’s butt.

 _Oh,_ Silver gives Flint a wide-eyed look. _Well, in that case, happy Valentine’s Day._


	5. Chapter 5

Eleanor, being a few generations removed from England, does not anticipate how enthusiastically Flint and Miranda descend on the bundles of greasy paper spread between them. Silver has to set aside a piece of cod for her. Silver himself will eat anything that went from a rock pool to his mouth by way of a deep fryer. He thinks longingly of chiko rolls, but he’s spoilt for choice with the feast they’ve ordered and doesn’t waste any time squirrelling away some chips before Flint steals them all.

_Miranda,_ Silver turns to her while Flint attempts to fit an entire flounder in his mouth. _How’s work?_

_It’s going well,_ Miranda says. _We’ve just had another ethics application approved, and some grant funding extended._

She signs slowly for Eleanor’s sake. Eleanor still looks lost, and Silver explains: ‘Miranda works in developmental neurolinguistics.’

Eleanor asks: _Children and language? And… heads?_

_Brains,_ Miranda shows her the difference. _Exactly!_

_Can you tell me more?_ Eleanor leans forward. _I’ll try to understand._

_I’ll try to make it understandable,_ Miranda smiles. _Right now, we’re working with another team on the connection between hearing loss and dementia._

_Is there a connection?_ Silver asks.

Flint snorts. _No._

Miranda’s mouth thins, as it does when she’s being patient with Flint. _Scientists like_ ** _proof,_** _James. But a popular nutritionist is arguing that there’s a connection._

_A_ ** _nutritionist?_** Eleanor frowns.

_Yes, you understood me correctly,_ Miranda says. _A nutritionist. Our team is trying to prove that the problem is actually language deprivation and isolation._

_That makes more sense,_ Eleanor nods.

_We’re going to look at Deaf people raised with ASL, and people with untreated hearing loss, and see if cognitive function is affected differently,_ Miranda explains, keeping eye contact with Eleanor and breaking down words to make sure she’s still following. _All our earlier research suggests that language deprivation and social isolation are stronger factors in predicting dementia than deafness._

Eleanor bombards Miranda with questions, and Miranda is eager to illuminate her. Silver senses the moment they become the only two people in the place to each other. He glances up at Flint and finds him smirking at the same realisation.

Flint offers him a chip, and Silver leans in to bite it from his fingers.

_I missed you,_ Flint tells him. _I should have come home earlier._

Silver shrugs. _We’re here now. Did you finish your log?_

_As best I could,_ Flint reaches over to wipe away sauce on Silver’s cheek. Silver kisses his thumb. _I wish you’d been there._

_What would I have done?_ Silver asks.

_I don’t know,_ Flint smiles. _Maybe I just missed you._

_You old sap,_ Silver says.

_You_ ** _young_** _sap,_ Flint steals one of his scallops.

_It’s true,_ Silver confesses. _I thought I was going to die from separation anxiety this morning._

_Glad to see you didn’t,_ Flint flicks his nose. Miranda and Eleanor are taking no notice, deep in a conversation about beekeeping.

_Did you enjoy your swim?_ Flint asks.

Silver nods slowly.

_You’re always a bit different after you swim,_ Flint tells him. _Less restless. But withdrawn_.

_Am I?_ Silver blinks. _I’m sorry._

_It’s alright,_ Flint tells him. _I just hope you don’t go somewhere I can’t follow._

Silver exhales, squeezing Flint’s hand briefly. _I don’t go anywhere,_ he promises. _Except the water_.

_So you can trawl it for clams?_ Flint chuckles.

Silver scoops a clam cake off the table and shoves it in his mouth.

_You two!_ Miranda throws a chip at him. _It’s like dining with children._

_You threw a chip at me!_ Silver retorts.

_It’s Deaf etiquette,_ Miranda says primly. _You can’t keep your eyes off him otherwise._

_My dear, if we’re disrupting your dinner,_ Flint tries to make his expression grave, but he’s barely suppressing a grin. _I can take this young man home._

_I know why you want to take him home,_ Miranda rolls her eyes. _Go on then, if you’re so eager._

_Don’t hurry back,_ Flint kisses her cheek, flashing a wolfish smile at Silver.

_Don’t wait up,_ she signs quickly, and Silver feels Eleanor sit a little straighter beside him.

_Are you sure it was a good Valentine’s date?_ Silver asks as they leave _. Food on paper and me bringing a gatecrasher?_

_Of course,_ Flint walks close beside him. _Fish and chips are the best way to an Englishman’s heart._

_You know they’re not English, originally_ , Silver comments.

_I did know that, yes_. Flint tugs him close and kisses his forehead. Silver nestles in the warmth between the turned-up lapels of Flint’s coat.

_It was our first date,_ Flint reminds him. _That will always make it special._

Flint takes his hand, pulling him into the night. He lets go to say: _Now, if Miranda doesn’t take the whole night to seduce your gatecrasher, I think I have you to myself for a while._

The glimmer in his eye is worth a long day’s wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The myth about dementia [is currently very popular,](https://twitter.com/NovicSara/status/1080532826271948800) so I wrote it into Miranda's story.


	6. Chapter 6

Flint barely keeps his hands off Silver the whole way home. It’s never enough to unbalance Silver, although it’s a close thing when Silver slams Flint against the wall when they’re halfway up the staircase and kisses him. Flint is smiling against his mouth and Silver’s hands glide over Flint’s waist, unbuttoning his shirt. Flint twitches ticklishly when Silver’s fingers find his abdomen. He grabs Silver’s wrists, ducking his head and mouthing ‘wait’ against Silver’s cheek. Silver lets his arms drop and Flint releases him to say: _I was hoping to fuck you somewhere more comfortable than the stairwell._

The promise of it is enough to lure Silver to the rest of the way up. They stop to greet Ink, who blinks sleepily at them from her favourite spot on the back of the couch. Then Flint steers Silver to their room, directing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

 _Clothes off, leg off,_ he instructs Silver. _There’s no rush._

Silver obeys, distracted by Flint undressing to his briefs. He makes grabbing motions at Flint until Flint lets himself be pulled close, standing between Silver’s knees. Silver wraps his arms around Flint’s middle, face pressed to his torso. He takes a long, steady breath, rubbing his face into the fuzz of Flint’s belly. Flint cards his fingers through Silver’s hair, and Silver presses his ear to Flint’s solar plexus. He finds the soft sound of Flint’s heartbeat, feels the steady rise and fall of Flint’s breathing. Flint unties Silver’s hair and ruffles the curls until they settle. He strokes Silver’s jaw until Silver looks up, chin resting on Flint’s ribs.

 _Lie on your front,_ Flint tells him, stopping to kiss Silver’s scalp. _Let me take care of you._

Silver sinks back down until he’s resting on his elbows, taking the chance to admire Flint before he rolls over and buries his face in the pillows. After a moment’s wait, the bed dips and Flint kneels over Silver. He straddles Silver’s waist, his wide hands spreading over Silver’s back. Silver shivers when oil drips down his spine. It warms as Flint smooths it over Silver’s skin, working it with firm touches from Silver’s lower back to his neck. He starts with broad strokes, helping Silver settle. His fingers find the grooves between muscles, easing into them and letting Silver’s back gradually unlock. He begins with light, soothing touches at the base of Silver’s spine and travels up until he’s gripping Silver’s shoulders, finding the tightest places and working them until the tension starts to release. Flint finds something that clicks and digs deeply, repeating the motion until Silver is shuddering. Flint must feel the groans vibrating through Silver’s back. He relents a little, and Silver shoves his shoulder back into Flint’s hand, gesturing for more. Flint responds by bearing his weight down on Silver, knuckles ploughing into the sore places until Silver melts.

Flint’s thumbs push along the muscle of Silver’s upper arm and he moans into the pillow. There’s a twinge from this morning that swimming couldn’t quite dispel; a heart-shaped-latte-pouring twinge, Silver suspects. Flint massages down to Silver’s elbow, finding where the nerve knots in the meat of his forearm and rubbing little circles there. Silver turns his face to one side, catching Flint in the corner of his eye just so he can be sure Flint sees the bliss in his expression. Flint pauses to pet his cheek with two fingers, then works his way home to the middle of Silver’s back. Silver feels like liquid, warm and pliant in Flint’s hands.

Flint’s touch becomes softer, almost tickling. He draws lines with his fingertips down Silver’s back, following the groove of Silver’s hips and tiptoeing to the base of Silver’s spine. When he reaches Silver’s tailbone, he has to shuffle back, moving to kneel between Silver’s legs. Silver settles himself without Flint’s weight and Flint’s palms spread across his ass. Flint squeezes into the meat of it, making Silver cant his hips up for more. Flint obliges, his nails digging in. Silver shivers when Flint’s beard tickles his thighs, the only warning he gets before Flint mouths at the curve of his ass. His lips drag in wet kisses and his hands knead heavily, just as thorough a massage as Flint gave his back. Teeth sink in and it makes Silver’s toes curl.

Flint elbows Silver’s thighs apart, spreading the cheeks of Silver’s ass as he does. He creates a trail of love-bites that creep further inwards until Silver is squirming and desperate. Flint places a solid kiss on Silver’s tailbone and Silver almost breaks Flint’s nose shoving up to meet him. He feels Flint’s laugh as a wash of hot air on his sensitised skin. Flint follows a path of kitten-licks down Silver’s cleft, making Silver twitch when they reach his hole, then continuing down. Flint finishes with a firm prod of his tongue behind Silver’s balls. Then he laves everywhere, the flat of his tongue wet and wanton on Silver’s ass. Silver is shaking, his fingers twisting in the sheets. When Flint’s licks finally focus on his hole, he props himself up onto his elbows, lifting off the bed a little. Flint’s hand comes down heavily on the centre of his back, shoving him into the sheets. Silver huffs out a laugh at Flint’s stubbornness and wills himself to relax.

Flint rewards him by flicking his tongue against Silver’s rim. It circles and probes, slipping incrementally into Silver before withdrawing to lap roughly at his hole. Silver groans into the pillow, his whole body quaking when Flint slips his tongue inside. It’s impossible to keep his hips still: he’s rocking backward, fucking himself on Flint’s tongue. Flint growls and Silver feels it tingle up his spine. His cock is filling quickly where it’s trapped against the sheets. Flint’s hand, slicked with lube, creeps between Silver’s thighs to stroke his cock. Flint’s pumps in tandem with his tongue until Silver feels soaking wet and achingly hard. Gradually, Flint’s pace starts to slow, and Silver bites down hard into the pillow as he wills himself to be patient. Flint works his tongue free but before Silver can complain about the loss, something firm presses in its place. Silver realises through his haze of arousal that it’s a plug, the smallest one Flint owns. He sighs with relief as Flint nudges it into him, and Flint gives Silver a moment to let it settle before rolling him gently onto his back.

Silver blinks, letting his eyes readjust to the warm light. Flint is crawling up over him, his body draped over Silver’s. Silver tilts his head up for a kiss and Flint dodges him with a questioning look—checking he doesn’t mind the taste, Silver realises. Silver dives forward and kisses him hungrily, feeling Flint’s fleeting grin against his mouth. They break for air, but Silver chases Flint with more kisses and Flint indulges each one. Silver can tell he’s doing something with his hands. He’s twisting on top of Silver, planting his knees on either side of Silver’s waist. Flint grinds their cocks together, clumsy but enthusiastic, hips stuttering. Silver is still kissing him when he gasps, and Silver raises his eyebrows. Flint pulls back an inch to look at him, his pupils wide, lips swollen and red. Silver reaches between them to find where Flint’s got two fingers in himself, scissoring.

 _I can do that,_ Silver pouts.

Flint gives him a pleading look, and then seems to realise he can’t reply with his right hand in his ass. Silver bursts out laughing. He snorts into the back of his hand, unable to stop. Flint drops his head onto Silver’s collarbone, and Silver can feel his shoulders shaking as well. When Flint looks back up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges and shining.

 _Do you have anything to say?_ Silver asks, struggling to keep a straight face.

Flint shakes his head.

_Have you got this?_

Flint nods. He adjusts his weight, and his shoulder rolls in a way that suggests he’s very much got this.

_Is this you ‘taking care of me’ by taking care of yourself?_

Flint nods.

_Do I get to fuck you when you’re done there?_

Flint nods.

_Are you done yet?_

Flint nods.

 _You’re unbelievable,_ Silver tells him.

Flint nods. He pulls out—Silver can tell from the way his eyes widen—and grabs Silver’s cock, smearing it with more lube. He wastes no time sinking down onto it, and Silver feels every clench and shiver as he does. Flint’s still tight, tight enough to make Silver gasp.

 _You’re a fucking gift,_ Silver tells him. _Do you know that?_

Flint shakes his head, smiling. Silver takes Flint’s chin between forefinger and thumb, until Flint is watching him. _You are,_ Silver insists, kissing Flints’ nose.

He thrusts his hips up to emphasise his point, or at least to distract Flint from trying to talk himself down. That makes the plug shift inside Silver, and his eyes widen in surprise. Flint must remember, because he gives Silver a wicked smirk and starts moving atop him.

Silver’s not going to last long. He’s still slippery and sensitised from Flint’s tongue, and he’s reminded of the plug with every movement. Flint grinds on top of him, hands resting on his own thighs when he lifts himself to drop back down. The movement makes both of them gasp, pleasure spiking through Silver. When Flint takes Silver’s cock as deep as he can, Silver can feel how it makes him tremble from the inside. Flint is hard and leaking on Silver’s stomach, his cock throbbing every time Silver thrusts into him.

 _Let me take care of you,_ Silver says, getting a hand around Flint. When he starts stroking, Flint pitches forward, scrabbling for balance on Silver’s chest. Flint’s weight is solid on top of him, each thrust punching the breath out of Silver. Flint is tight and needy, urging Silver to go faster. Silver flicks his wrist, playing with Flint’s foreskin and teasing the head of Flint’s cock. Flint shudders, bucking into Silver’s hand for more. Each push and pull by Flint moves the plug inside Silver, and Silver’s so focused on Flint that his own orgasm catches him by surprise. Flint keeps riding as Silver fills him. He’s is all wringing, clenching heat around Silver’s cock as he drags his own pleasure from Silver. His lower lip is trapped between his teeth, breath shallow and rushed as he comes beautifully in Silver’s hand. Silver strokes him through it while Flint slows and lets Silver’s cock slip out of him.

He sighs heavily, looking like he’d be very happy to slump on Silver and sleep in the sticky mess. But he bends down to kiss Silver’s forehead before shuffling off him, disappearing and then returning with a damp cloth to clean them both up. He rolls a reluctant and languid Silver onto his front and coaxes the plug free, cleaning up the remaining lube and giving Silver an affectionate pat on the ass when he’s finished. It leaves Silver’s skin chilled in the open air, which gives Silver enough willpower to grapple with the blanket until he’s underneath it. Then the lights flick off and Flint comes diving in with him, warm and smelling fantastic. Flint smothers him in kisses, far too quick for Silver to return even half of them. Silver sprawls onto Flint, hoping his weight will slow Flint down a bit. He feels Flint’s lips curve into a smile, and Flint’s fingers comb gently through his hair.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.


End file.
